Tell Me, Brother, When Is Before?
by Devilaire Mshadi
Summary: Slash, AU, Timetravel. In Chris's mind, there's no such thing as too many times. Over and over, he's gone back to the past. But after three thousand years, you begin to accept that some things were meant to be, no matter how much you wish otherwise.


Tell Me, Brother, When Is Before?

By: Devilaire M'shadi

Disclaimer: I don't own any of Charmed, and I apologize if any of ya'll think I'm stealing other people's ideas, 'cause for all I know, I could be. I got this thing called memory loss, and I got this other thing called an imagination. Combined, I'm never quite sure if the ideas in my mind are just revamps of things I've read before, so… yeah. Don't own Charmed. And very mad at first to third season Charmed, or whenever Paige came in. I never like Prue, but that's cause I started out seeing Paige first, and yeah. Not a big fan of post-season six, either. Avatars can bite my ass, I want Chris back.

Warnings: Don't like slash, you probably won't want to read. Incest freak you out to the shmigans? Probably don't want to read. Sometimes, it squirks me, too, but I don't go flamin' cause of it. And I have a soft spot for Wyatt/Chris, especially in a fandom where time is in a continuous repetance, if that is a word, where one guy goes back saving the same thing over and over again. Don't ya think he'd know his brother like inside and out by then? And what do they say about best friends, people? That's for a reason. But yeah, most would think this shmigan-worthy, squirky, and downright odd. But there's not much of anything in this chapter. But oh well.

Deal with it.

If ya don't, and ya review me with it, then all the more power to you… wait… I shouldn't have said that. Oh well. Okay, by the way, I don't use 'ya' in my stories. It'd just be creepy. Like using all caps without cases of dire situation. And like using improper grammar, which is killing me enough as it is in the pre-story author's note and warning. So yeah, babbling again. Just read.

* * *

Chris orbed home after one of his routine demon vanquishes, right into the closet in the bathroom. He groped for the flashlight that he knew was on the second shelf, flipping the switch when he found it: it didn't work. He tapped the flashlight, hard. Nothing. A bit calmed down after a fight, he decided he'd rather not fight with it, too. Placing it down, he summoned a ball of light to hover over the floorboard, where he crouched down. Feeling up under the very bottom shelf, he retrieved a healing potion from the far left, hesitating before he also grabbed an emotion-calming potion from the far right. It wouldn't do for Phoebe to be picking up on his vibes, and he wasn't old enough yet to take the empath-blocking potion. Drinking both down, he did a quick spell to automatically refill them with what they had previously contained before he sensed through the bathroom and, once he was sure no one was in or around it, he quietly opened the door and stepped out, cautious enough to flush the toilet and wash his hands, as if he had been using the bathroom the whole time. He wasn't a neurotic half-witch, half-whitelighter for nothing. Systematically, he summoned his bag from the attic, thankful suddenly for the impromptu invisibility charm he had placed on it earlier. He had taken longer with the Shorklak demons than he had expected to. It almost amazed him how many demons were in the Underworld. Shaking his head, he walked out of the bathroom and toward the room he shared with Wyatt, knapsack slung over his shoulder. He opened the door when he reached it, closing it softly right behind him. He carefully placed his bag on the right side of his desk as he turned and looked at Wyatt, sensing something a bit off. He called his name a few times, only to be greeted with silence. That meant Wyatt was thinking about one of two things, and considering neither of them had hit puberty yet, it only could be one of them: the future. "Hey, Wy, what's wrong?"

Wyatt's frame stilled, which meant a jump, scream, and admonishing in Phoebe language. He didn't even turn around, just kept staring out the window from his chair. _Good memories, that chair, but not yet, not this time._ "Nothing." Chris controlled his snort, knowing Wyatt would only respond angrily to that. Instead, he walked over and sat on his own bed, staring at Wyatt with only just enough concern to show through his eyes to let his brother know he truly cared, without lettings him know exactly how much. _Too young, not yet; we're both innocent, now._ Vivid blue eyes with darkened edges glanced up at him, reading quickly over the concern and care and love, and back down, down out the window to where the Finley children were playing tag just across the street. Wyatt's body tensed before he released the pressure out, reminding Chris of just how much stress they had when they were older. "It's just—I can't help but—Nevermind, it's stupid."

Sensing Wyatt's current awkward trust, he pushed forward lightly, careful to not anger him into saying things he'd regret: this always happened. It was common now, once a week, thinking about things that neither of them ever wanted to have to worry about, but they did. Because they were Halliwells. Because they were them, and thus never allowed to have a moment's peace. "If it was stupid, you wouldn't be worrying over it."

"Oh, what, so you're allowed to be Mr. Neurotic, and I'm not. Is that it?" Chris jerked inwardly, showing the pain through his eyes so Wyatt would feel guilty, because Wyatt needed to feel guilty about hurting Chris, needed to know he could hurt Chris. Wyatt winced visibly, and his eyes clouded over in self-anger. He looked up then, made sure to look Chris in the eyes, because Chris had taught the family from early on that that was the only way he'd ever accept an apology. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean—I'm sorry." He breathed, in, but not out. Out was for the words, in a rush. "I'm just a bit, I don't know—"

"Scared?" He knew he was scared, knew it more than Wyatt did, knew what Wyatt was thinking, knew what Wyatt was afraid of, knew what Wyatt needed right now, but he couldn't give, not yet._ Not now, not time. "Is it time yet, Chris? Is it time? I'm so lost." _Chris jerked, hoping Wyatt didn't see, because then he wouldn't open up, and he needed him to open up and trust him, like all the other times, not like the first time. The first time was the worst.

"What if I can't stop myself from becoming the one you're afraid of?" You can't. But he didn't tell him that, that was the last thing he needed now. He needed comfort, needed someone to hold him while he still had some childhood left, needed someone to tell him it would all be okay. But it wouldn't be, and Chris didn't know what to tell him, or what exactly he was asking for just then.

"What do you mean, Wy?" He knew what he meant though: Wyatt was afraid he'd turn into the thing the Chris both feared and hated most, the one thing that Chris still couldn't help but love even though it caused the world so much anguish. He'd been there too many times to stop caring.

"Well, mom and the aunts are always going on about fate and destiny—what if this is mine?" He stopped then, eyes widening in an uncharacteristic show of 'oops'. "I mean, I don't want it to be, but what if it is?" He paused then, as if afraid to go on, and Chris merely tilted his head to the right, which of course meant 'and?', but Wyatt might not have known that. Might not have, but did, because he and Wyatt were deaf and dumb last week because of that spell that bordered too near personal gain. Wyatt had wide eyes now, though, not deaf ears. He had fear now, not petulance. He had insecurity, not mock sarcasm. "Will you reject me again, like the other you did? I don't know if I could stand that."

But he was used to this part, this insecurity, this shaky voice and wonder and near-tears. This _'you'll never leave me, right? Halliwells are together forever, right? It'll all be okay, right?'_ He was used to Wyatt waiting for him to give up on him and leave, which he always did, but you never tell that to a child: it would scar him. He tried that rout, too. Needless to say, it didn't work out that well. "Wyatt, look at me. I will never leave you; you got that? Never."

"Promise?" Wyatt suddenly looked young then, eyes pooled with unshed tears, and it took all the strength he could muster to not comfort his brother and tell him he loved him right then and there, took all his strength to not shake the boy and tell him to avoid the future and make himself all right, took all his strength not to feel any anger towards him, because their link wasn't as strong as it would be, but it was still there, and he would feel it. And Chris knew he could never tell Wyatt what would really happen again, because it destroyed him so badly last time, nearly destroyed the city, too. He knew he could never make all of Wyatt's fears go away, because he'd tried that rout, too, and Wyatt never accepted him since he was his brother, not his father, and brothers weren't meant to understand that well. But there was one thing he could do, one thing he'd tried several times and always worked, one thing that he always fell back on when he was doing everyday things, one thing that came as naturally to him as orbing did to Wyatt.

"I promise."

He could lie.

And maybe, just for now, he could save a little bit of that innocence, save a little bit of that baby he played with back in 2004, save a little bit of that hope and happiness in Wyatt's eyes whenever the two of them were in harsh climates where no human or demon or Elder ever dared go. And maybe, in that innocence, he could save himself, too. Maybe he could believe in lies.

"_You told me you'd never leave me." _

"_Do you think I wanted to be away from you? Do you think it was easy on me, begging for you to be there but not allowed to because then they'd think I'm weak? Do you think I enjoyed it? I was dying without you, Wy. I never want to do that again."_

But he always did.

He always left.

And he always broke his promises.

* * *

Insert Text Break, 'cause it sounded wrong to have this right after that since I thought it ended so well.

* * *

As Chris dressed for bed, he glanced over at Wyatt, blonde curls spread out over his rumpled pillow, innocent. He smiled slightly as two visions entered his head: one of baby Wyatt in his crib, and one of older Wyatt after a hard day's work. His mood sobered then, and he set back to his task of readying everything for the following day. He categorized the clothes they had picked out for themselves, a habit which he had luckily instilled into Wyatt as soon as they shared a room. The shirt was on the far left, the pants in the middle, and the shoes on the right, socks already stuck in them. However, his obsessive-compulsive tendencies had escaped his mom as of yet, a fact for which he was quite glad. None of the medicines the psychologist had put him on in the other world ever helped with his OCD tendencies or any of the other many psychiatric disorders Chris had been diagnosed with in that life, though all carried true still today. He apparently had a severe (for a child) case of depression that lasted for more years than could ever be considered normal, a separation anxiety disorder, a 'conduct disorder' because of his constant lying, and they had thought he had some form of autism in almost every lifetime he lived because of his withdrawal from all physical contact besides Wyatt. But that wasn't now. Piper could tell something was wrong, but she didn't seem to know where to go with her questions. As it seemed Wyatt didn't know where to go with his, either, and where else but his neurotic, depressed, semi-autistic brother who would never tell the truth to Piper if he thought Wyatt didn't want it that way?

He sometimes regretted telling his brother about the other future at such a young age, but he knew that that one demon attack was the only way to explain how he got the information, and if he withheld it for even a few months or years after the attack, then Wyatt would think he betrayed him of a sort by not telling him immediately. It was either now, during his teenage years when he was bound to be hormonal, or after he turned: he preferred the former. Still, it hurt him that he couldn't have pretended to have done a random spell because of some reason about him thinking he'd forgot something, and had randomly received his other self's future knowledge, but he knew Wyatt wouldn't fall for it. He hadn't the first time he did it, so why the second?

But that still didn't help every time he had to watch his brother in one of these states, worried he'd become the future him that Chris had been with so many times before, in more ways than one. Chris suddenly wondered if he wouldn't agree with his parents: wouldn't saving Wyatt's innocence for that much longer be worth the emotional turmoil they'd have to suffer when, and if, he figured it out? Which he would, he always did. But if he could be innocent and young for just that much longer, wouldn't it be worth it?

But Chris had truthfully abandoned those thoughts years ago, buried them, in fact, along with his grandfather. With Wyatt, you can't really think about those things. With Wyatt, there isn't that much innocence. He'd explained it to him hundreds of times, trying to convince him to follow him, which he always did for a time. He'd explained how he'd always thought about how every demon attack was won because their parents were the Charmed Ones, the powerful ones, and that every single time only enhanced his belief in survival of the fittest. And what's worse: every time Wyatt explained it to him, he began to believe it that much more, and he began to wonder how much longer he could continue this before he broke down and just accepted the nature of Wyatt and the future of the world, how much longer he could continue before he refused to leave Wyatt by himself again, how much longer he could continue before he said, 'To hell with the world', and followed his brother through thick and thin—but he knew what would happen then, too, or he supposed at least. They'd eventually rule the world, and eventually, there truly wouldn't be any more innocence. Parents killing their children so they didn't have to live in the cruel world, the children's souls being recycled, only for it to happen again and again. That's what happened in Phoebe's last premonition. Wyatt denied that vision, denied her; he always did. And she always died.

Chris was suddenly scared again that the next time he went back to the past, he'd kill him, his own brother. The thought choked him with terror as he lie down on his bed, once again succumbing to the soft duvet and warm covers that awaited him. He was always so cold when he was in bed alone, so consistently, in fact, that Phoebe had noticed and bought him a heating blanket for his birthday. It was only a small recollection of old comforts, and it only gave him a small amount of warmth as he continued to cry himself to sleep, or what was left in his life of what sleep he could accomplish. And he once again began to wonder how come the world was always left in the hands of an obsessive-compulsive, neurotic, depressed, semi-autistic insomniac that was in love with the one that would otherwise cause its destruction. He began to wonder how come the world was left in the hands of the one person who was so close to not giving a damn as long as he could make the destroyer of the world happy, for just one more smile, one more time. He began to wonder since when the less powerful one, who shouldn't have had to have been through as much as the more powerful one, was forced to play god. He didn't remember that in any of the normal fairy tales. He didn't remember it at all.

But then again, time travel was never supposed to be easy.

And neither was playing god.

* * *

So… good? Bad? Should I whack it? I can never tell with myself. I'm so critical of everyone and yet half my stuff is crap, so I don't know. I pretty much just wrote something that would have taken about ten fifteen minutes in real life with… um… about 2,800 or so words, so I think that means bad, as in too wordy-bad, not ah-you-suck-bad. Uh yeah… I've got a lot of these little snippets of conversations and stuff, some with actions, but they take place in different futures… and I've even started numbering futures, and this gets really confusing. Does no one else do this? Have more than two futures? Oh well… tell me what ya think, 'cause my brother says I'm being angsty and emo and that I'm wasting my time and shouldn't write fanfiction... but he's Hayden, so I don't know if he counts. 


End file.
